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the door for a moment, past the dead body and up at the warehouses, the birds, the sky and around. He sat back slowly. "Na a thing. The shooter be sittin' pretty still waitin' on us ... or they already be on their way about their business. Other than that, all Ah by seein' be the body in front a' the door."
    Moira eased herself into a sitting position next to a footlocker on the floor. "Can ya see if he be anyone we know?"
    O'Fallon slowly eased forward until he could see around the door with at least one eye. "Na be anyone Ah know. He be dressed in some gray coveralls, a pair a' leather boots. Ah wouldna taken him for a sailor. He may a' been workin' on the station here? Ah'd have ta go out there ta be seein' any more than that."
    Krumer looked down the room at O'Fallon, easing back from the edge of the door. "If you had to, could you reach him?"
    O'Fallon moved forward again and peeked past the edge of the door. "If'n Ah had ta. He be just within' me arms' reach." The quartermaster moved away from the door. "But Ah'll surely be there for anyone ta be seein'."
    Krumer looked around the room at Moira, Thorias and Arcady, then eased up onto his knees, so he could see for himself. Silent warehouses sat with gray clouds behind them. A pair of blackbirds sat perched on a roof, the lone audience to the drama. However, nothing else moved. The orc's thoughts churned. He had only three people with him, four if he counted the wind-up toy Thorias was so fond of. The loss of one would be devastating to their survival if anyone was still outside lying in wait. More importantly, he had known O'Fallon since the days when he, Thorias, Hunter and O'Fallon served in the Navy - before Hunter had that incident with Adonia Salgado. Krumer did not want to lose his friend. He slowly sat back down and rubbed his eyes a moment with a grimace that showed his orcish fangs. 
    "It looks clear, O'Fallon. Try it. If anything moves we'll try and and keep it from you." Krumer shifted position again to a stable crouch on one knee where he could peek over the window's edge, but still have a stable sitting position to shoot from. He hoped it would not come to any gun play. He did not know how long he could stay in that crouch. 
    Once Moira and Thorias also were ready, O'Fallon took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then set his gun out of site behind the door. The man outside was at least O'Fallon's body size, if not more. If the man was indeed dead, the quartermaster would need both hands to drag the dead man back under cover. Once ready, he rushed through the door, grabbed the body by the collar and left arm, and dragged the man backwards. The quartermaster did not stop until he had the man entirely through the door and behind cover. 
    With the body inside, O'Fallon dropped heavily behind the door again and panted for air, partly from exertion but primarily from nerves. He lifted his gun and leaned his head against the door with his eyes shut. "Ah got 'em."
    Thorias left his position to crawl low against the floor until he reached the place where O'Fallon had left the victim. It took only one look to make any sort of simple diagnosis. "Dead, like we thought."
    Moria shrugged sadly. "It be worth the try."
    Krumer nodded. "It was."
    Suddenly, a furious buzz came from O'Fallon's belt pouch. The quartermaster opened his eyes and pulled his pack open. He reached in and withdrew the eight inch long, rectangular opti-telegraphic. As if it sensed being free from the pouch, the device buzzed again like an angry bee. He pushed the brass rivet, rapidly turned the small 'S'-shaped crank that appeared, then tapped a pair of keys on the small keyboard. Immediately, a voice emerged from the small box.
    "O'Fallon! We're hearing gunshots! Report! What the devil is going on?" Captain Hunter's voice was tense. Already he had second thoughts over his choice to send just the four of them alone into the station instead of a larger force of people.
    "Na worries, Cap'n. We be